


A Merry Little Christmas

by EclecticIsMyMiddleName



Category: One Piece
Genre: Baking, Canon Disabled Character, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comfort, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, First Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticIsMyMiddleName/pseuds/EclecticIsMyMiddleName
Summary: Baratie is closed for the Christmas holiday, and Sanji and Zeff spend the day together.
Relationships: Aka Ashi no Zeff | Red-Leg Zeff & Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 13
Kudos: 95





	A Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Meg (startaroux) for beta'ing this for me!! ^v^ I really appreciate it!!
> 
> Also, this fic takes place during the first year that Baratie is operating, when Sanji is still a little kid. :>
> 
> Title of the fic comes from the song, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas", written by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane.

Sanji knew he was awake before he even opened his eyes. His bedroom was _cold,_ the creaky floorboards and the thin curtains on his window proving useless against the chill of winter. As he curled his blanket tighter around himself, a scent caught his nose.

 _Peppermint,_ he recognized. His developing skills as a chef were coming into play. _And something being baked. Cookies? Gingerbread?_ His stomach growled, muffled by the blanket. _Well, might as well see what the shitty geezer is up to._

Sitting up, he shivered as a new wave of cold air hit him. Looking out the window, he could see snowflakes falling outside. The moonlight illuminated them, making them look like miniature stars dancing down from the sky. 

Sanji’s eyes shifted to the clock on the wall, and he sighed. It was three in the morning. There was still plenty of time to sleep, but there was no getting around how cold the room was.

 _I’ve put up with colder temperatures before,_ he told himself. _I must be too used to sleeping on an actual bed._

Unable to fall back asleep, he decided he might as well get up. At nine years old, his legs weren’t quite long enough to get out of his bed without a little struggle. But he managed to find his feet, wincing at how frigid the floor was beneath him.

After digging around under his bed, he found some slippers to put on. They were second-hand, so they were a tad too big, but he didn’t care, as long as it protected his poor feet from the floor. 

“This is my first winter at Baratie,” Sanji remarked to no one. Padding over to the window, he stared out of it. The waters were calm today; as gentle as a mother rocking her child in her arms. Snowflakes fluttered down from heavy, gray skies. The sea swallowed them, and whatever wasn’t doomed to the water landed on the floating restaurant. “The snow sure is pretty. I haven’t gotten a good look at it since…”

He trailed off, a pang under his ribs as his mother’s face came to mind. Shaking his head, he turned away from the window.

“I should see what that damn geezer is doing,” Sanji told himself, crossing to the door. “He said we’re closed today for the holiday, so why the hell is the kitchen being used?”

The floorboards squeaked as he made his way down the stairs, holding onto an icy railing to keep his balance. The closer he got to the kitchen, the stronger the smell of sweets and baked goods became. His stomach growled again, and he realized just how empty it was.

“Maybe that geezer wouldn’t mind if I took a few treats? He’s bound to have extra, right?” Sanji mumbled as he approached the double doors leading to the kitchen. Opening one of the doors a crack, he peeked into the room. 

Zeff was at one of the stoves, pulling down the oven door. One hand was covered by an oven mitt, and he removed a tray of steaming cookies from the oven. Placing the tray on the unlit stove burners, he shut the door with a solid sound.

“Come on in, shitty brat!” he called, tossing the mitt and grabbing a spatula. “I know you’re there.”

Sanji cursed under his breath and pushed the door open all the way. “What are you doing in the kitchen, shitty geezer?!”

“It’s my damn kitchen, last time I checked!” Zeff barked, not even tearing his eyes away from the cookies as he pried them off the tray with the spatula. “Didn’t think I needed a skinny little brat’s permission to use it!”

“Whatever, damn geezer,” Sanji muttered, walking in and letting the door swing shut behind him. He came to a stop by the stove, barely tall enough to see the cookies on the tray. “Whatcha bakin’?”

“What’s it look like?” Zeff replied, lifting a cookie off the tray with the spatula, then lowering it so Sanji could see.

“Since when do you bake cookies?” Sanji snickered, reaching for it. Before he could grab it, it was yanked out of his reach as Zeff plopped it back onto the tray. _“Hey!”_

“I don’t recall offering you any, brat!” Zeff said, putting the spatula down on the counter. “But here, if you’re _so_ hungry-” He turned around and grabbed a plate of cookies off the counter behind him. Setting it down in front of Sanji, he finished, “-you can have the rejects!”

“‘The rejects’?” Sanji repeated, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the counter. The cookies on the plate were all misshapen, too big, or too small. Some of them had too many chocolate chips while some had barely any. “Oh, so these are the ones that didn’t come out perfect?”

“Yep. And because they don’t look perfect, they’re less likely to sell,” Zeff explained, finishing up with the cookies on the tray. “Which means, they’ll go to waste. And you know we can’t have that around here!”

Sanji stood up on his tiptoes again and grabbed a cookie. It was already melting in his hand and he shoved half of it in his mouth in one go to avoid wasting it. A smile spread across his lips at the gooey chocolate chips and the warm, soft dough that had been baked to a beautiful brown color.

 _“Mm!_ Thi’ is r’lly good!” Sanji said through a mouthful of cookie. As he crammed the other half of it in his mouth, he missed the slight smile on Zeff’s lips. It was gone as soon as Sanji looked up. His cheeks were still puffed out from the first cookie and he was already reaching up for another. He yelped when hands curled under his arms. _“Hey!”_

“It’s pathetic watching you struggle to reach ‘em, so here!” Zeff gruffed, setting Sanji on the counter. Sanji shifted until he was sitting, his legs dangling over the side. Zeff nudged the plate closer to him with a chiding, “Don’t eat too damn many and spoil your breakfast, got it?”

Sanji swallowed, then nodded. Grabbing a second cookie, he asked, “So what are ya bakin’ them for?”

“Some wealthy customer ordered ‘em last night,” Zeff explained, moving the hot used tray to the back of the stove. He crossed in front of Sanji and grabbed a clean one from the cabinets. “They wanted ‘em fresh for Christmas day because they’re havin’ a get-together this afternoon. Normally, I would’ve told ‘em to fuck off, but they offered real good money for this.”

Sanji stared down at the cookie in his hands. “Did you accept it because we’re broke?”

Zeff barked a laugh. “Nah, we’re good at the moment, brat! But I figured from this job, I could stash away some of it and save up to buy something later.”

“Like what?” Sanji asked, biting into the cookie. 

Zeff flicked Sanji on the forehead and grinned. “Like buying you a boat so when you turn eighteen, I can kick your ass out for askin’ so many damn questions!”

Sanji’s eyes got wide for a minute, then his brow furrowed. Frowning at the remainder of the cookie in his hands, he bit the inside of his cheek.

Zeff was silent a moment as his smile fell, and he sighed. “Look kid, there’s - there’s nothin’ wrong with askin’ questions. A man has a right to ask when he don’t know something.”

Sanji’s voice was barely audible. “Mhm.”

Setting the tray down on the stove, Zeff walked over - his gait making its usual _tap, step, tap_ \- until he came to a stop at Sanji’s side. He raised a hand and Sanji flinched. Tense silence descended upon them as Sanji looked up, meeting his father’s eyes by accident. A rare, pained expression wrinkled Zeff’s brows and tugged his lips down into a frown.

Softly, he mumbled, “C’mere, little eggplant.”

Sanji barely had time to set the half-eaten cookie down before strong arms were circling him. A lump formed in his throat as he sat, too frozen to move. After a few seconds, he relaxed and the awkwardness melted away. Burying his face in Zeff’s shirt, he squeezed his eyes shut. His tiny arms couldn’t reach all the way around his father’s torso, but he was damn determined to try.

Zeff ended the hug a couple of minutes later with a firm pat on Sanji’s back. Pulling away and stepping back, he returned to the stove. “I thought you’d still be in bed at this hour. I wasn’t expectin’ to have company.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Sanji mumbled, his appetite coming back. He grabbed the cookie he had been eating on and took a bite. “It’s too cold in my room.”

“Then grab some extra blankets from the storage closet later.” Zeff took the mixing bowl beside the stove and measured out uncooked dough for another batch of cookies. As he rolled the first soon-to-be-cookie in his hands, he added, “I’ve been up far longer than you gettin’ all these cookies ready. It’s been a damn pain.”

“Why don’t you have the other cooks help you?”

 _“Ha!_ Like any of those idiots know how to bake!” Zeff replied, placing the rolled-up dough on the tray and starting on the next one. While he worked, he continued, “Little eggplant, there’s a difference between cooking and baking. Just ‘cause you can do one doesn’t mean you can do the other!”

“Baking doesn’t seem so hard,” Sanji scoffed.

“Don’t say that until you’ve tried it yourself, eggplant,” Zeff advised, placing the last ball of dough on the tray. 

Sanji watched his father pop the tray into the oven. “So what now? You just wait for it to bake?”

“Yep,” Zeff said, closing the oven door. Then he carried the empty mixing bowl to the sink. “That was the last chocolate chip batch. Now I gotta finish icing the gingerbread.”

“Are you using peppermint to ice them?” Sanji asked, beaming when Zeff nodded. “I knew I could smell peppermint from upstairs!” He hopped down off the counter, stumbled a little, then righted himself. “Can I help?”

Zeff paused. “Well, have you ever iced anything before?”

“No, but I can learn!” Sanji insisted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can I help, old geezer?”

Zeff took one glance at his son and sighed. “Why the hell not?”

“Yes!” Sanji exclaimed, following Zeff to the counter where the gingerbread cookies were sitting out. “Where do I start?”

Sanji stared at the cookies, impressed by how perfectly round they were. Excitement surged in his chest, eager to prove his skills. However, when Zeff dragged a different tray in front of the one Sanji was eyeing, his excitement withered.

“Hey! I don’t wanna ice the rejects!” Sanji protested, picking up one of the cookies. Its shape was lopsided, one side bigger than the other. “It looks weird! Let me try the other ones instead!”

“You said you’d never iced anything before!” Zeff pointed out, lightly grabbing Sanji’s ear. “You think I’m gonna let you ruin the good ones with sloppy icing skills? Not a chance!”

“Ugh, _fine!”_ Sanji groaned, his ear stinging. Zeff let go and Sanji rubbed his ear. “That hurt, damn geezer!”

“Too bad,” Zeff groused, handing him a piping bag full of peppermint icing. “Here, get started. Once you’ve practiced enough, I _might_ let you ice the good ones.”

A determined grin broke out on Sanji’s face. “I’ll show you, shitty geezer! I’ll be at your level before you know it!”

 _“Ha!_ Don’t be so candid, brat!” 

For the next few hours, Zeff iced the good batch while Sanji practiced on the imperfect ones. He had to stand on a stepstool, too short to reach the counter without it. His eyes were scrunched, the tip of his tongue poking between his lips as he moved the piping bag with slow, deliberate movements. His first few cookies were sloppy; icing was falling off the sides or the layers were horrendously uneven. But one cookie after another, Sanji got the hang of it. 

Zeff couldn’t help but smile at his son’s determination. He even slowed down his own pace, in case the brat proved his skills were good enough that he could move on to the good batch. If that happened, Zeff didn’t want him to be disappointed by having no good ones to use.

As the sun began to climb over the horizon, the light streaming in through the kitchen windows softened to a warm glow. The smell of chocolate, peppermint, and cooked dough lingered in the air. Sanji managed to ice at least five of the good gingerbread cookies, a feat that he wouldn’t stop grinning about.

“Whaddya say we rest up, now that we got the order done?” Zeff suggested, patting his son on the head. 

“Best idea you’ve had all morning, geezer!” Sanji said, chuckling as Zeff ruffled his hair. _“Hey!”_

“Don’t be so candid, eggplant!” Zeff replied, his grin betraying him.

Sanji started to follow Zeff out, when he paused. The sink was piled high with a mountain of dirty dishes. “Hey, wait. What about the dishes?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” Zeff rummaged around in a drawer until he pulled out a pen and a pad of paper. Sanji giggled as Zeff slapped a note on the counter delegating that Patty and Carne be the ones to wash them. “They’ve been slackin’ anyway!”

Sanji went up the stairs to the top floor first while Zeff lagged behind, his peg leg making it more difficult to climb. Once Sanji got to the top, he turned and sat down on the step, his chin tucked in his hands. 

“Hey, old geezer?” Sanji piped up.

Zeff hauled himself up a couple of steps before replying, “Yeah?”

Sanji smiled, tilting his head to the side. “Thanks for letting me help!”

A light pink color cropped up on Zeff’s cheekbones, and he harrumphed. “Don’t get cute on me, brat! Save that shit for the female customers!”

In an instant, Sanji’s smile fell away. Instead, his brows furrowed and he frowned. “Hey!”

“Actually, _don’t_ save that cutesy shit for the female customers-” Zeff corrected, nearing the halfway point of the stairs. “-‘cause you ain’t supposed to be out of the kitchen during work hours, anyhow!”

“That’s the last time I’m gonna be grateful to you, shitty old geezer!” Sanji spat, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching until his shoulders touched his ears. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Zeff said, reaching the top of the stairs. As he passed Sanji - who was still pouting on the steps - he brushed a hand over the top of Sanji’s head in a lazy ruffle of his hair. “C’mon brat, I got something for ya.”

Sanji’s sour expression melted away, and he perked up. “You do?”

“Right this way, eggplant,” Zeff said, making his way to his bedroom. His gait slowed him down, and this time, Sanji kept pace with him instead of running ahead. As Zeff opened the door, he said, “It’s under the bed, wrapped up in blue paper.”

Sanji nodded, waiting until Zeff had crossed the threshold to go look. Peeking underneath the bed, he spotted the gift right away. The paper was printed with blue waves on it, and Sanji’s heart flipped a little when he saw a tag with his name scrawled on it.

“This is for me?” he asked, pulling out the gift and examining it. It was a medium-sized box, about a foot in length and a couple of inches wide. “What’s in it?”

Zeff laughed as he sank into his rocking chair by the window. “Open it and find out, kid!”

The air left Sanji’s lungs in one fell swoop, leaving a breathless, tight feeling in his chest. Turning to Zeff, he protested, “I - But I didn’t get you anything!”

“Don’t worry about that!” Zeff replied with a shrug. “Fathers are supposed to give their kids a gift on a holiday.” With a little huff, he added, “So merry-fricking-Christmas, eggplant! Now open it!”

Sanji glanced down at the gift before starting to tear off the paper. He was careful to preserve his name tag, and discarded the crumpled paper off to the side. The box underneath the paper was plain brown, and when he opened the lid, tears sprung to his eyes.

It was a toy boat with the words, “All Blue” handpainted on the side. Beside it was the mast, no bigger around than a pencil. Sanji picked it up, holding it as if it were made of glass and not wood. He assembled it, piecing together the ship and the mast. He unfurled the miniature sails, the cloth as crisp and pure white as a cloud. 

Sanji felt his lower lip wobble and sat the toy down before he could damage it. He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, his small shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

“What’s the matter, eggplant?” Zeff asked quietly. “Don’t ya like it?”

“I-I love it,” Sanji muttered, swallowing hard and lowering his hands. His vision was blurry as he looked over at Zeff. “But why would you get me a gift? I-I can’t think of any reason why you would!”

Zeff sighed, shaking his head. “Did you listen to what I said at all, brat? I’m supposed to give you a gift on Christmas! That’s what fathers do!”

Sanji nodded, blinking back any lingering tears. As Zeff settled back in his rocking chair, Sanji laid down on his stomach on top of the area rug in the middle of the room. It was a deep blue color, and made of shaggy fibers. When Sanji set the toy boat on top of it, it almost looked like it was sailing on the waves of the sea. 

“So little eggplant, tell me-” Zeff piped up. “-how come you’re so surprised that I got you a gift? Haven’t you ever gotten one before?”

Sanji bit his lip, his eyes falling to the floor. “When I was younger, I did. M-My mother used to celebrate Christmas with me.”

“I don’t believe I’ve heard you talk about her much.” Zeff’s gruff voice softened. “Do you miss her, lad?”

“A lot,” Sanji admitted quietly. “She was sick for as long as I could remember, so we always had our celebrations in her room. We would sing and play games. It was a lot of fun.”

Zeff sighed. “It’s a damn shame such happiness never stays, isn’t it? Makes you appreciate it while you’ve got it, don’t it?”

Sanji glanced from his toy boat to Zeff and back. “Uh-huh.”

A memory flashed in Sanji’s mind; one of curling up next to his mother while she rested in her bed. Every Christmas, after a day full of laughter and merriment, he would pass out beside her. One of his favorite, warmest memories of her was when he would drift off at her side, and she would tuck him under the covers with her.

For a moment, Sanji wondered if Zeff would ever let him sit beside him in that chair. Maybe even let him curl up next to him like Sora used to.

Instead of asking that, Sanji looked down at the shaggy rug. “Um, thanks for the gift, old geezer.”

“You’re welcome, boy,” Zeff replied, folding his hands in his lap. The repetitive movement of the rocking chair was making his eyelids heavier with every passing second. “I think I’m gonna rest my eyes a bit. Don’t get into any trouble in the meantime, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji mumbled, going back to focusing on his boat. While Zeff snored (and Sanji giggled at it), Sanji pretended the boat was his fishing boat that he would one day ride on the All Blue’s bountiful waves.

Eventually, Zeff woke up around eleven. By then, Sanji was dozing on the rug. A firm kick to the side with his peg leg woke the boy up, and the two of them went down to the kitchen for lunch. A couple of the other crewmates were milling about in there. Most of them didn’t have any family to return to for the holidays, and Zeff didn’t trust them yet to throw a holiday party without his approval. One stern glare and tap of his peg leg was enough to ward off any ideas of having a party without his permission.

After lunch, Sanji and Zeff returned to his room. Sanji immediately went back to his boat while Zeff settled back into his chair. He turned on the radio, switching channels until he found one playing holiday music.

Sanji bobbed his head in time with the music, lost in his daydream about the All Blue. 

Meanwhile, Zeff spied a bird coming towards his bedroom window. It was a news coo, and it hovered in the air, tapping its beak on the glass.

“You’re late!” Zeff barked, opening the window and holding out his hand. The bird dropped a newspaper in hand with an indignant squawk. Zeff tossed it a coin as payment and it flapped away in a huff. “Damn birds.”

As early afternoon turned into mid-afternoon, Zeff read the paper. 

Sanji, on the other hand, was hitting the midday wall. His eyelids were drooping. His head was falling forward and then jerking back up as he tried not to give in to the urge to sleep. Eventually, his chin touched the rug and he was out like a light.

When he came to, he realized he wasn’t on the floor anymore, and his brows wrinkled in confusion. His hand was still curled around his toy boat, but underneath his head was a pillow, not the shaggy area rug. When he shifted, he realized there was a blanket thrown over him.

And most confusing of all was that he wasn’t in his own bed. He was in _Zeff’s!_

Sitting up, he blinked away the sleepiness from his eyes. “What-?”

“You finally woke up, eh eggplant?” Zeff remarked, staring out the window with a pipe in hand. He was still in the rocking chair, the newspaper folded up on the floor. The pipe in his hand was smoking faintly, filling the room with a sharp, tangy scent. “You’ve been out cold for a couple of hours. It’s almost time for dinner, y’know?”

“It is?” Sanji yawned, and his stomach growled. “Good. I’m getting a little hungry.” Setting the toy boat down on the bed, he said, “Um, old geezer? When I fell asleep, why didn’t you just take me to my room? It’s right next door.”

“Didn’t feel like walkin’ that far,” Zeff answered simply. 

Sanji couldn’t tell if he was being completely truthful or not. If he wasn’t, and Zeff let him sleep in his bed because he cared that much about him, then well. Sanji wouldn’t know what to say to that. He had never had a parent show such kindness for no reason.

Not since his mother.

After dinner, Zeff returned to his room for the evening. Sanji considered going back to his own room, and hovered in the hallway as indecision left him rooted to the spot. The radio in Zeff’s room turned on again, and Sanji could hear the start of a holiday special coming on.

He knocked on the door, and when Zeff groused a “Come in”, Sanji opened the door a crack. Peeking in, he saw his father back in the rocking chair, pipe in hand.

“Oh, eggplant,” Zeff remarked. “I thought you went back to your own room.”

“I-I was gonna, but-” Sanji looked to the radio, and Zeff followed his gaze.

A knowing smile broke out beneath his mustache. “Ah, I see. Haven’t you ever heard this one before?” 

Sanji shook his head. 

“Well, now that’s too bad.” Zeff took a drag off his pipe and blew the smoke out. “It’s a special thing that they do every year. Some celebrity reads this famous Christmas book over the radio. They’ve been doin’ it since I was a young little shit like you are.”

“D-Do you mind if I listen?” Sanji asked, then cleared his throat. Standing taller, he corrected, “I mean, I wanna listen, old geezer!”

“Then come right on in, you little brat!” Zeff replied, motioning for Sanji to get inside. “Now sit your ass down and shut up!”

Sanji scrambled inside, planting himself down on the area rug and listening intently to the broadcast. About halfway through, his eyelids started drooping again and he leaned forward like he was going to fall flat on his face. Right before he did, he jerked awake. Zeff chuckled as the boy got to his feet, swaying like he was going to tumble over. Sanji eventually crossed over to Zeff, leaning his weight against his leg.

Sanji’s voice was laced with exhaustion as he mumbled, “Hey, geezer…”

“Yes, brat?”

Sanji’s voice got a little quieter, and Zeff almost didn’t hear him ask, “Can I get up there with you?”

“I ain’t gonna stop you, lad,” Zeff replied, helping Sanji climb up. He shifted over until there was enough room for Sanji to curl up comfortably by his side. Zeff even threw his free arm around the boy to keep him in place, his other hand still holding his pipe.

“I thought you didn’t like smoking?” Sanji mumbled, his eyelids barely open. “You hate it when I do it.”

“That’s because you’re a kid, and you shouldn’t be smoking already,” Zeff said, holding his pipe a little further away from Sanji. “Besides, we all got our vices. And it ain’t bad to have one every now an’ then.”

“Mm.” Sanji closed his eyes, burying his face deeper in Zeff’s shirt. After a few minutes, soft snores escaped his mouth.

Sighing, Zeff set his pipe down on the window sill and reached behind him. Pulling off the blanket that was draped over the back of the rocking chair, he threw it over Sanji and made sure it covered him well enough. When he was sure that Sanji was deep in sleep, he pressed a brief kiss to the boy’s forehead. 

“Merry Christmas, my son.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a twitter if you wanna go follow me there!  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/EclecticWrites  
> My handle is @EclecticWrites.
> 
> I have a tumblr, too!!  
> Tumblr: eclecticwrites.tumblr.com


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